


all you need is love

by veilofimagination



Series: Further Down The Road (A L&WR Future Series) [2]
Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure tri., Digimon Adventure: Last Evolution Kizuna - Fandom
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28333680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veilofimagination/pseuds/veilofimagination
Summary: So, that’s how he finds himself here, throwing a bag down on a chair in the corner of a small, but cozy, inn room. Yamato could even be pressured into calling it romantic, with its warm wood colours and large windows with a view of the river, complete with snowy banks, and mountains in the distance. He might even be tempted to say so aloud, if Taichi didn’t already look so damn pleased with himself.“Merry Christmas, baby,” Taichi whispers into his ear, kisses soft against his skin.
Relationships: Ishida Yamato | Matt Ishida/Yagami Taichi | Tai Kamiya
Series: Further Down The Road (A L&WR Future Series) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088867
Comments: 18
Kudos: 65





	all you need is love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SakuraRebin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SakuraRebin/gifts), [xsmokexflamesx (secretlullaby)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretlullaby/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, Taiyama fandom. This has a bit of everything for you--smut, fluff, Christmas, idiot boys in love. Enjoy. 
> 
> This fic is also a flash into the future of my other fic: [Long and Winding Road.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24595492/chapters/59410516=) Same Universe. You can enjoy this without reading that (but you should also read that).

## all you need is love

**_There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be_  
_It's easy_  
_All you need is love_  
_– All you need is love, The Beatles_**

Christmas is in the air. The seasonal lights illuminated the street even before they left Tokyo for the airport, and now, as the train draws closer to Sapporo, snowflakes fall from the sky with ever growing frequency. Yamato presses his forehead against the train window, watching the scenery flicker behind the glass.

A chin lands on his shoulder. “Not quite Freezeland, ne?” his travel companion murmurs, breath light against Yamato’s cheek.

One corner of Yamato’s lips turns up in a smile. “No,” Yamato agrees, turning his face to meet soft brown eyes. “Not quite.”

“I’ll find a way to take you back someday,” Taichi promises, with a small smile, soft and wistful, in the way everything has been for the last few months. Taichi’s fingers move to tangle with Yamato’s for a brief moment before he adjusts himself again, so only his shoulder remains pressed against Yamato’s. Yamato finds himself leaning into the slight contact, settling in to watch the rest of the snowy cityscape pass them by.

* * *

Originally, Yamato protested when Taichi proposed this trip.

Taichi arrived like a whirlwind, one evening in mid-November. Prior to this, all was quiet and mellow in Yamato’s apartment; Yamato hovering over a textbook, waiting for water to boil. He’d been preparing for a boring night in—a date with his physics textbook over a cup of tea. That plan is interrupted, of course, when he hears a key in the lock and then, seconds later, Taichi bursts in, closing the door, throwing down his bag, and toeing off his sneakers, seemingly all at once, before arriving in the kitchen and waving two pieces of paper in Yamato’s face.

“Got them,” Taichi exclaims, grinning wildly at Yamato.

“Hi,” Yamato says, bewildered, raising an eyebrow at the unexpected visitor, bearing unidentified scraps of paper.

“Oh—yeah, hi,” Taichi says. He takes two steps across the kitchen floor, sits down and slides a chair close to Yamato, in essentially one motion, before leaning in and pecking Yamato on the lips. “Hi,” he repeats, and then the wild grin appears back on his face. “Got them.”

“Got what?” Yamato asks, frowning at the pieces of paper still clutched in Taichi’s hand.

“A surprise. Well, not a surprise anymore. Tickets,” Taichi replies, wild grin still there as he lays the tickets on the table. _Tokyo-Sapporo_ , the tickets each read. Yamato’s jaw twitches and he knows Taichi notices, as his boyfriend immediately starts stammering, “Okay, hear me out. I know it’s on the expensive side. But I’ve got the money and we have the time off and we’ve never really gone anywhere in the four years—”

“Five years,” Yamato corrects, still staring at the tickets.

“Five years,” Taichi amends, with an affable shake of his head, “That we’ve been together. So, let’s just go. We deserve to do something fun.” He pauses, pokes Yamato’s arm. “Come on. Christmas markets. All the food. Lights. Snow. Onsens. Just me and you.”

Yamato pauses for a second, taking in Taichi’s enthusiastic face. “How did you even afford this?” he wonders aloud.

“I picked up some extra shifts,” Taichi replies, with a shrug. _A lot of extra shifts_ , Yamato thinks, staring at the tickets. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It’s expensive, Taichi,” Yamato protests, “Between tickets, and a place to stay, and food and whatever else—”

“Doesn’t matter,’ Taichi repeats. He picks up Yamato’s hand, squeezes. “Come on, when was the last time we had actual fun? Between classes and work and,” he pauses, swallows a bit, “well, the summer.”

“Taichi—” Yamato protests again, because the summer shouldn’t be used as an excuse for being irresponsible.

“Let’s just go. Together,” Taichi says, brown eyes big and wide and pleading, and Yamato can’t find it in himself to say no.

* * *

So, that’s how he finds himself here, throwing a bag down on a chair in the corner of a small, but cozy, inn room. Yamato could even be pressured into calling it romantic, with its warm wood colours and large windows with a view of the river, complete with snowy banks, and mountains in the distance. He might even be tempted to say so aloud, if Taichi didn’t already look so damn pleased with himself.

“What did you want to do first?” Yamato says instead, tearing his eyes from the window. The sun’s already setting at the base of the mountains, the twinkling of Christmas lights and streetlamps creating ambiance on in the city streets.

Taichi just grins, jumping from the ground onto the bed and bounding across on his knees until he can wrap his arm around Yamato’s waist. His other hand comes up to settle on Yamato’s neck, pulling gently until Yamato leans down to meet Taichi in a kiss. It starts slow, Taichi’s lips soft and warm against his, before Taichi tugs him down a bit further, one hand’s fingers sinking into his hair, the other’s tightening on his hip. Yamato moans against Taichi’s lips, mouth opening under his, intensifying the kiss. Even as he’s still maneuvering himself so he can also kneel on the bed, his fingers come to work at the buttons of Taichi’s plaid shirt, both of them working to strip off extraneous clothing so they can run their hands over each other’s bodies.

“We’ve got three days to explore,” Taichi murmurs, when they break for breath. He slowly guides Yamato back onto the bed, helping him squirm out of his jeans in the process. “Right now, I just want you. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Yamato manages to murmur back, before he’s cut off with another searing kiss. He slings an arm around Taichi’s neck to draw him closer, forcing Taichi to balance on one forearm, as the other hand snakes down to caress Yamato’s hip before slipping into his underwear. Yamato arches into the contact, releasing a breathy moan.

Taichi laughs against Yamato’s neck, where he’s leaving kisses and teasing bites. Yamato’s missed him—the feeling of him, the taste of him, the heat of him—so much, having only experienced tiny samples, in the pauses of their increasingly separately, busy, lives, between course work, and exams, and jobs, and that way that life just overwhelms and consumes.

He needs this. Him.

As he knows, there’s only so much time.

* * *

Yamato wakes first the next morning, light hitting his face as it streams in through the gaping curtains. His pillow is breathing heavily beneath him, still asleep, even with Yamato plastered to his side, stealing heat from his perpetually warm boyfriend. Yamato sighs contently, snuggling in closer and burying his face into the soft part of Taichi’s neck. It’s been years since either of them experienced consistent nightmares, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t still fill him with a sense of comfort to listen to Taichi breathe deeply and sleep soundly.

He’s awake though, and, if positions were reversed, Taichi would never let him continue sleeping without waking him in some torturously slow way. _It’s not even that early_ , he thinks, as he traces a line down Taichi’s chest with his hand. A small smirk appears on his lips, as he dips his head to swipe his tongue gently over a pink nipple, feeling Taichi twitch beneath him. Warm fingers continuing dancing over Taichi’s chest, even as Yamato raises his mouth to trace his tongue over Taichi’s jaw, stubble rough against his tongue.

Taichi groans, blinking blearily at Yamato. “Don’t people deserve to sleep on vacation?” Taichi murmurs, as the blond raises his mouth from Taichi’s neck. Yamato smiles and brings his mouth down on Taichi’s, who responds sleepily.

“I’m awake through,” Yamato replies, with a soft nuzzle against Taichi’s jaw.

His eyes are wide and teasing as he brings his mouth down again, hard against Taichi’s lips for another moment, before beginning to pepper kisses down his chest, ducking under the comforter as he moves lower. A sigh escapes Taichi’s lips, as Yamato’s tongue dips beneath the waistline of his underwear, at the same time he tugs the fabric over Taichi’s hips. Beginning with slow, wet strokes of his tongue, Yamato soon takes Taichi into his mouth, and the morning quiet is replaced with gasps and curses and whines as Yamato starts to suck, bobbing his head and finding a rhythm.

“Fuck, Yama,” Taichi breathes, fingers around a lock of Yamato’s hair, as he bucks into the suction, wave of pleasure taking over. Yamato swallows, pulling off as the last bit hits his chin. He wipes that off with the back of his hand as he pushes up, poking his head out from under the blanket, with a sheepish grin.

Taichi’s hands grab at his waist to haul him up the final few inches. “Well, that’s one way to wake me up,” Taichi murmurs, pulling Yamato towards him to crash their lips briefly together. Yamato responds with a shrug, still grinning as Taichi flips him so that Yamato lies on his back, with Taichi looking down at him, eyes glinting mischievously. He starts to dive back in for a kiss, but pauses momentarily, meeting Yamato’s eyes with a modicum of seriousness: “We should leave this room, at some point, though.”

* * *

They do end up leaving the room. Much later, and mostly because Taichi’s stomach starts growling and they’re forced to acknowledge that they both probably need food. Outside, the air is crisp, and the sun is bright. Yamato and Taichi wander the streets, mostly aimlessly, content to just walk and admire the buildings, capped in snow and looking like they floated out of a storybook.

When it’s dark, the two of them make their way to Odori Park, in all its illuminated glory. While the trees are bare and the temperatures chilly, the colorful lights are warm and bright and cheerful, lining the park in greens and reds and purples. Yamato’s eyes are drawn to a pattern of blue lights, splayed out like icicles. The blues that shimmer like his crest and cover the lawn as if scorched from Garurumon’s fire. He can’t help but stare, entranced, and with a slight pang echoing in his heart.

“Are you okay?” Taichi asks, tugging at Yamato’s mittened hand and breaking him from his thoughts with a lopsided grin. Yamato nods and Taichi pulls him along, weaving them through the crowd, never letting go despite gesturing constantly for Yamato to look at the light displays like the exuberant kid he secretly still is at heart, despite all the evidence to the contrary. Yamato can’t help but smile and follow, gazing the festive lights and ignoring everyone around them except Taichi.

Inevitably, they end up at the Christmas Market, standing in midst of all the food stalls, just like Yamato knew they would. Taichi’s eyes are wide, standing in the middle of an open area and staring at the food stalls lining both sides of the pathway, trying to decide where to start. Laughing, Yamato pokes him in the side and murmurs something about fetching mulled wine, leaving Taichi to plan his food adventure.

He returns a few minutes later to a vacated spot, clasping two mugs of mulled wine. Puzzled, Yamato looks around, ignoring the tiny, anxious reflex within him that kicks up a notch. It takes a few seconds of staring through the crowd before Yamato spots him, standing in front of a food stall for soft ice cream.

“Hey,” Yamato says softly, nudging Taichi gently with his shoulder, trying not to startle him. Taichi’s head snaps away from the display case, and he smiles when he meets Yamato’s eyes. “Here,” Yamato adds, handing Taichi the mug of mulled wine. He turns towards the food stall and frowns. “Why are we looking at ice cream? It’s already cold.” He shivers for emphasis.

“I was just looking,” Taichi says, with a shrug, sounding slightly melancholic. “It’s a specialty up here.” He gestures to a sign. “They have lots of different flavours.”

Yamato leans into peer more closely at list of flavours: lavender, melon, vanilla, watermelon, pumpkin, as well as a few atypical ones, including scallop and seaweed. Yamato wrinkles his nose. “Did you want to try?”

“Not really,” Taichi says, softly, “I was just thinking…” He trails off and Yamato looks up at him, meeting his eyes with a knowing look. Taichi shrugs again. “Just thinking that if Agumon was here I’d end up sampling every stupid flavour, no matter how disgusting.”

Yamato smiles, wistfully. “Probably,” he agrees, knowing all too well that they’d end up with two partners too full of ice cream. “Excuse me?” he says, turning away from Taichi and flagging down the stand operator. The woman behind the counter smiles at him with kind eyes as she waits for him to decide. “I’ll take a plain one. Taichi?” he asks, looking pointedly at his boyfriend

“Ah,” Taichi says, leaning over. “Pumpkin? Sure.” He huffs out a quiet laugh. “Sounds edible.”

“Merry Christmas,” the woman says, once Yamato has dug the money out of his pocket and exchanged it for the soft serve.

“Merry Christmas,” he says back, handing one cup over to the brunet. Taichi takes it with a doleful look. 

“They would have loved this,” Taichi murmurs, as they step away, hands now full of opposing forces: warm wine and cold ice cream. Yamato nods, taking a sip of the mulled wine and swallowing both it and the nostalgia that he can taste on his tongue.

* * *

At Taichi’s insistence, they spend Christmas Eve skiing at a Teine, an alpine ski just outside of town. Yamato agrees because the plan comes with the promises of a trip to an onsen after, which suits both parties and allows them both to feel like they’ve taken the win.

Even the slopes are decorated for Christmas. It’s beautiful and the day is warm, and the activity gives them something to do together that occupies their minds. And it’s not like Yamato hasn’t been skiing before. He has—he’s even decent at it. But Taichi takes to every activity that’s even tangentially related to sport, meaning that despite having done this less times than Yamato has in his life, Taichi still spends the day zipping down the hills. And they’re both competitive, meaning that skiing turns into racing, which turns into Yamato watching his boyfriend zip past him, taking sharp turns, and taunting him by skiing dangerously close, as they both dash down the hill.

“I win,” Taichi says with a grin, when Yamato slides in just below him, at the agreed upon ‘finish point’—a place on the hillside where the run splits in two. Yamato roll his eyes, but his heart is pumping with adrenaline and genuine joy and he doesn’t have it in him to even pretend to be angry.

“This time,” Yamato says instead, to at least keep up the pretense of the competition.

Taichi eyes glint as he leans down so his lips are inches from Yamato’s, the slope of the hill and the slight height difference between them angling their mouths perfectly. Taichi pecks him quickly on the lips and then says, “To the bottom of that run, then?”

He’s off before Yamato can even reply, forcing him to turn rapidly on his skis and dart after his boyfriend, trailing by just a few inches. The runs long and more difficult than what they’ve been taking all day, but they’re used to racing through challenging terrain, the thrill of their mostly-for-entertainment rivalry had them racing through the Digital World all the time, both on foot and atop the evolved forms of the partners. At least then, Yamato had the advantage; nothing quite matching the speed and swiftness of Garurumon.

Lost in his thoughts, he takes a corner too quickly and instantly feels the impact of powder snow on his face as he skids down a few metres. In the tussle, one of his skis comes lose and from his now up-side down position he watches it slide down the hill beside him. He’s not sure how far he slides, before the friction of the snow finally stops him.

“Shit!” he hears Taichi exclaim from a little way over. He hears the unclipping of skis and the patter of boots running across the hill. “Are you okay?” Taichi asks, when he arrives at Yamato’s side, peering down at him.

Yamato nods, still upside down on the hill. “I don’t think I’ve ever fallen off Garurumon.”

If the response takes Taichi off-guard, he doesn’t show it. He plops himself down on the snow, moving a gloved hand to cup Yamato’s cheek, smiling as he says, “Not even once.”

“Is skiing harder than riding a giant wolf?” Yamato asks, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“Probably,” Taichi agrees, sounding slightly melancholic himself. “Are you definitely okay?”

“Yeah,” Yamato says, adjusting so he can sit up, using Taichi to balance him. “I think I’m done now though. Onsen?”

Taichi stands quickly. “You got it,” he replies, moving to collect the extraneous skis from the hillside, and within a few minutes they’re off again, at a much slower pace, for their last run of the day.

* * *

Their time at the onsen is pleasant but short. There’s a ghost haunting the corners of Yamato’s vision, and he spends considerable time staring at the edges of the water, imagining all the times Gabumon’s sat there, dipping only his feet in and making casual conversation, even as Agumon squawks at him, taunting him to get in with threats of splashes. He knows Taichi sees his own ghost, as he spends too much time staring at the ‘Quiet’ signs, probably thinking of all the times he tapped the edges, reminding his partner of the meaning of the word, to, only minutes later, having to repeat himself.

It makes it bittersweet, even if the warm water cascading over them is satisfying, as is the way Taichi’s fingers tangle with his under the surface. Despite that, it’s not long before Taichi gestures to the exit with his head, and the two of them make their escape, hopefully leaving the ghosts behind.

They grab takeaway on the way back, content to spend the rest of the evening in the room together. Taichi finds some cheesy made-for-television Christmas movie and Yamato curls up at his side, watching until his eyes start to grow heavy.

“Yamato?’ Taichi whispers into his hair, a bit later, once they’re both almost asleep in bed, both sated and exhausted from the day’s activities. Taichi’s arm is slung over his waist, holding Yamato against his chest possessively, like he always has, from the very beginning. “I have a question.” He pauses, a degree of hesitance in his voice. “It’s probably going to annoy you.”

Yamato chuckles into his pillow, low in his throat. “Ask away,” he replies, without even opening his eyes.

Sighing, Taichi presses his face into Yamato’s neck. His arm tightens around Yamato’s waist, as he says: “It is hard for you? Being with me, now that they’re gone.”

Yamato’s eyes fly open to stare at opposing wall. He refrains from turning instantly in Taichi’s arms. Behind him, Taichi shifts nervously, as if he can feel the way Yamato’s heart picks up the pace. It wouldn’t surprise him if he could. “Why would you ask that?” Yamato says, slowly, voice catching in his throat.

Taichi’s breath tickles his neck as he inhales sharply. “I don’t know,” he admits, “You’ve just been distant lately.”

“Busy, not distant,” Yamato stammers.

“You know it’s more than that,” Taichi tells him. He’s waiting for an answer, even as he presses a soft kiss against the back of Yamato’s neck.

Yamato squeezes his eyes shut again. They’ve both been struggling, he knows that. In their own ways. And for Yamato, that’s meant introspection. Struggling with his grief on his own; keeping busy so he doesn’t have to think about it and doesn’t have to remember that a part of him is gone now. Missing Gabumon silently, because it’s easier than admitting aloud that it feels like part of him is now forever empty. Even if he knows that Taichi is experiencing the same thing, because he can _feel_ that Taichi feels the same way, that he also catches glimpses of his partner in the shadows of their now entirely pedestrian lives.

“Sometimes,” Yamato whispers, truthfully, as sometimes it _does_ feel wrong, having one half of his partnership here, while the other has faded away.

“Ah,” Taichi says, drawing in another sharp breath, tensing behind him and Yamato immediately twists in his arms, so they’re face to face and he wrap his own hand around Taichi’s waist, drawing him in closer.

“But it would be worse without you,” Yamato adds, quickly. He kisses Taichi quickly, hoping his voice conveys all he wants it to. That he needs him, that he’s always needed him. That he will always need him.

Taichi nods, leaning his forehead against Yamato’s. “I know you’re struggling,” he says, “I am too. I just—I need you. Always have.” He laughs, a half-hearted one in the back of his throat. “So, if this—us—is too hard for you and you’re going to leave me, I need to know, as that’s going to break me.”

Yamato brings his hand up to trace Taichi’s jawline. “After everything we’ve been through? You’re not getting rid of me. Ever.” He pauses for a second, chuckles lightly. “What’s it that you always tell me? You. Just you,” he declares, echoing the words Taichi’s been saying since they were seventeen, since the beginning, since the very first time. “Nobody else compares. No one ever could.”

Relief floods Taichi’s eyes. “Okay. Good,” he breathes, “Because I really fucking love you.”

“I really fucking love you too,” Yamato affirms, bringing his lips back to Taichi’s and pressing them together hard.

Taichi responds quickly, and desperately, both of them keeping up the pressure until they’re dizzy. Once they break apart, Yamato shifts in closer to tangle his legs with Taichi and rest his head against Taichi’s chest, which is, if he’s honest, still his favourite place to be.

“Is this why you wanted to come here?” Yamato asks, softly, once they’ve settled down together, and Taichi’s breathing has started to deepen, on the cusp of sleep.

“Maybe,” Taichi admits, after a second. His voice is hazy with sleep. “I just wanted a few days where it was just us. No distractions, just a chance to be together, maybe reconnect a bit.”

“We’re always connected,” Yamato promises, kissing Taichi’s chest. “Nothing is ever going to take me from you.”

Taichi makes a sound between an audible sigh of relief and one of agreement, as he shifts himself to draw Yamato further into him, clutching him until they both drift off to sleep.

* * *

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Taichi whispers into his ear the next morning, kisses soft against his skin as he teases Yamato awake. His eyes brighten when Yamato opens his, rousing Yamato slowly with warm fingers grazing over his skin and deep kisses, tongues sliding together.

“Merry Christmas,” Yamato murmurs back, when Taichi releases his lips. He relaxes into Taichi arms, soaking up his warmth; searingly-hot and blindingly bright that never fails to make Yamato feel lost.

Taichi grins at him. “Breakfast or gifts first?” He glances at the clock. “Well, basically lunch by this point.”

“Gifts?” Yamato repeats, confused.

Chuckling, Taichi nudges him in the side and then leans over off his side of the bed. “Yeah, gifts,” he says, as he fishes for something on the ground. “It’s Christmas, idiot, gifts are part of the gimmick.” He’s grinning as he reappears, a fair size box in hand.

Yamato shakes his head. “I thought this,” he says, gesturing to their surroundings, “was my gift.”

Taichi shrugs. “I got you something else too.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Yamato says, still sounding perplexed.

“I know that,” Taichi says, with a roll of his eyes, “I wanted to.”

Yamato nods. Then, tilting his head to the side, he smiles. “Breakfast and gifts?” Yamato asks, nodding his chin at the phone. Taichi’s grin spreads enthusiastically.

About half an hour later, food has appeared in their room. Gifts are put to the side temporarily, as they both inhale their breakfast, from their respective spots in bed. At Taichi’s side is the brightly wrapped box, complete with a blue ribbon. It’s wrapped beautifully, so much so that Yamato’s pretty sure Taichi had some help from one of the girls, likely Hikari or Sora. It’s just an elaborately wrapped box, so Yamato can’t tell from just looking at it what might be, although Taichi’s always been weirdly good at gifts.

Next to him sits a smaller, simple, rectangular box. Thin and white, there’s only a ribbon over it, because Taichi never bothers to look at the wrapping paper anyway, just tears into it, always more interested in the contents than the effort gone into wrapping it. He’s never not liked anything Yamato’s gotten him, but for some reason, Yamato’s nervous about this one.

“You first,” Taichi says, when the foods mostly gone, and they’ve cleared the plates off the bed. He holds out the box. Yamato takes it tentatively, admiring the flare of the wrapping paper, reflecting when the sun streaming in the windows hits it.

Yamato opens the gift carefully. He notes how Taichi has already rolled his eyes, ever impatient as he watches Yamato carefully peel back the wrapping paper—half of why he opens presents so slowly is that he enjoys watching how much it irritates Taichi. Finally, though, the wrapping paper is off, and Yamato lifts the lid off the box.

His eyes are already filling with tears as he lifts the first ornament out of the box: a tiny, Gabumon-shaped decoration. It’s obviously hand-made, carefully painted with vibrant blues and yellows, and two sparkling red eyes. A tear slips down his face.

“Shit,” Taichi says, sounding slightly tense, “Too sad? Shit, I was wondering if it would be too sad…”

Yamato shakes his head, voice caught in his throat. He sets the Gabumon-ornament down on the bed and moves to carefully peel back the tissue paper on the next ones, revealing ornaments shaped like Garurumon, WereGarurumon, and MetalGarurumon, each as vibrantly painted as the last. “Taichi,” he manages, his voice cracking a bit at the seams. “They’re beautiful…”

Taichi smiles shyly. “I hope you like them.”

“I do,” Yamato murmurs, holding up the MetalGarurumon one to the light, seeing how the metal parts in particular glint as the light hits them. “They’re incredible. How did you get these?”

Taichi chuckles. “I had some help,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. “Koushiro helped make the 3D models and Mimi knew of an artist that was willing to do a bit of an odd custom request. They turned out well, didn’t they?” He smiles and Yamato smiles back, still unable to take his eyes off the ornaments. He’s back to having the tiny Gabumon in his hand, his heart swelling and tears still filling his eyes. “There’s one more,” Taichi adds, tapping the box.

Yamato looks down. He puts down the Gabumon-ornament and reaches for the last one, tearing back the tissue paper on the one he missed to unearth a shining Omegamon, complete with a tiny sword and cannon and brightly painted combined symbol of their crests.

Smiling and still holding the Omegamon ornament in his hand, Yamato leans forward to kiss Taichi, cradling his cheek in his hand. “They’re all beautiful. I love them. Thank you.”

Taichi’s bright smile has returned, now that he’s reassured the gift hasn’t hit too tender of a spot. “You’re welcome,” he replies, a slight blush colouring his cheeks.

Yamato’s reluctant to put the ornaments down, but he places them back in the box, carefully moving it out of the way on the bedside table. He reaches for the smaller one behind him, feeling his heart pick up the pace. “It’s not as thoughtful,” he apologizes. He hands the box to Taichi, who predictably tears right in, snapping the ribbon and lifting the lid off the box in essentially one motion.

Confusion appears on his face once the lid is all the way off. “A key?” Taichi says, sounding bewildered, as he lifts the small metal key out of the box. “Why are you giving me a key?”

Yamato rolls his eyes. “It’s for my apartment.”

“I already have a key to your apartment,” Taichi replies, the confused look not leaving his face.

Yamato sighs: he clearly has to explain everything. He leans forward and uses his thumb and forefinger to tap against his boyfriend’s forehead. “This is my way of saying I want you to move in with me, you idiot. I want us to live together.”

“In your apartment,” Taichi repeats, still staring at the key.

“Your apartment sucks,” Yamato points out. “And yes, but I’ll change my mind if you’re going to be this daft about it.”

He reaches for the box, but Taichi pulls it out of his reach. “No,” he laughs, “I mean yes. Yes—yes, I want that.”

Yamato grins, a weight falling off his chest he didn’t even realize was there. “Good,” he breathes, “Good. I’m tired of living my life in separately, just in parallel to yours, seeing each other when we can find time. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Taichi looks at him, catching the double meaning. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” he says, reaching for Yamato’s hand and squeezing. “We don’t have to live together for that to be true.”

“I know that,” Yamato insists, “But I want you there, always. I want to have a life with you. Together. In the same place.”

“I want that too. So yes—absolutely yes,” Taichi says, with a laugh, clutching the key in the hand not holding Yamato’s.

Using their linked hands, he pulls Yamato into him, kissing him deeply. He doesn’t let go for a long time. Yamato shuffles forward on the bed, twisting himself so he’s straddling Taichi’s lap, better leverage for leaning into the kiss and grinding his hips downwards. Taichi moans, dropping the key in the sheets and pulling Yamato farther into his lap, already working at removing Yamato’s underwear.

Taichi flips them, so Yamato’s beneath him. “Lift your hips,” he instructs, and when Yamato does, he pulls down his briefs in one smooth move, dropping them off the bed at the same time he reaches down to grab the lube they’d discarded there the night before. His hands wander, soft and warm against Yamato’s skin, before settling between his thighs, with now slick fingers. Taichi keeps kissing him, smoothing his unoccupied hand over Yamato’s skin to help him relax as he works nimble digits inside him, slowly working to stretch and prep him.

“Taichi, fuck,” Yamato gasps, when Taichi’s three fingers deep and rubbing against something that makes Yamato squirm and claw at the bedsheets.

Yamato trembles when Taichi finally rocks into him, slow and steady, giving Yamato a chance to adjust. He leans down to kiss him again as he starts to rock his hips. Yamato tightens his legs around Taichi’s waist, whimpering and gasping as Taichi’s hips rock progressively deeper. “Flip,” he demands, gasping as Taichi obeys, shifting the two of them as best as he can without exiting him.

When their positions are reversed, Yamato starts to move himself, riding Taichi’s cock, the position allowing him to control the angle and depth better. He moans when they find a particularly sharp angle; moving just right to have Taichi hit that spot inside of him again and again. His own sounds grow louder, panting and moaning as he tries to keep up the pace he’s set. Feeling his own climax drawing nearer, Yamato leans over, bringing their lips together and using their bodies to increase the friction on his own cock.

“Yama,” Taichi moans, body jolting as his climax overtakes him. His hands are on Yamato’s hips, encouraging him to keep moving as Taichi rides out his orgasm, Yamato following soon after.

“I love you,” Yamato gasps, as he collapses onto Taichi’s chest, out of breath and aching, but happy. Overwhelmingly happy.

“I love you too,” Taichi murmurs back, arms encircling his waist. He has a grin on his face, something teasing on his tongue, Yamato’s certain. “But… I still already have a key to your apartment,” he whispers, predictably enough.

Yamato shoves his shoulder playfully. “Shut up,” he says, with a laugh, before diving back in for another kiss. Taichi kisses him back, and soon enough they’re both laughing.

As for the moment, his heart feels full, and happy, and loved. Because this, right here, is the gift the Digital World gave him.


End file.
